The time for lovers sometimes ends
Author: sukichann
Title: The time for lovers sometimes ends
Characters: Marc Màrquez, Pol Espargaró, nominés Aleix Espargaró and Marc's brother, Àlex.
Pairing: Pol Espargaró/Marc Màrquez (aka Porquez)
Disclaimer: It's everything a product of my imagination. I earn nothing on my fanfics.
Rating: G
Notes: It's been ages since I don't write any RPF fanfiction. In fact, this is my first MotoGP fiction I upload here, with a special dedication to lamechante as we are both the 'proud mummies' who gave birth to Porquez in a lovely summer in Barcelona. I know the story is a bit sad, but it was something I *needed* to write. Because, although this pairing will rule the MotoGP fandom, relationships like that mustn't be easy. I hope you all like it :)
The title was taken from Sophie Zelmani's song I'm the rain. Not beta'd, so feel free to tell me if there's any mistake. And yeah, I know I could have written in Italian, but I just didn't feel capable XD
It was supposed to be one of the best moments of his life. He had just won the Estoril Grand Prix after a historic comeback - sliding and losing some positions but standing up on time, shining with his own light on the Portuguese wet track. He was about to reach the sky. In less than a week he could be the World Champion.
But he just didn’t care at that time.
He was celebrating his own success at his box. He raised his fists victoriously; he shouted and bounced, congratulated the team and embraced his relatives. But, all of a sudden, he turned his head back to look at the TV screen and his face changed completely. There was the image of Pol crying inside his box, held tight by his brother Aleix, and Marc’s heart broke entirely as soon as he saw it. “What’s going on?”, his brother Àlex asked. Marc shook his head and answered, with a soft smile on his face: “It’s nothing. Wait for me, guys. I’ll be right back”.
And he ran to where the Tuenti Racing box was, breathing heavily and trying to avoid the dozens of people waiting for his autograph and congratulating him. “I don’t give a damn about you guys right now… I just want to see him!”, Marc thought. Actually, it only took five minutes, but those seemed eternal to him while the rain was falling on his shoulders.
When he was about to knock on the box’s door, Aleix Espargaró cut in front of him, with a grave look on his face. Aleix, who was in fact looking kind of shocked, couldn’t understand anything he was seeing. Was Marc, the guy who was pissing his brother off, running to talk to him, gasping desperately for breath, with his hair all wet?
“Did you want something, Màrquez?”, he asked suspiciously.
“Uhm, yes… I wanted to talk to Pol”, Marc answered, a bit scared. Aleix seemed to disapprove of the encounter. “He cannot talk right now - I’m sorry”. Oh, please, he insisted, but Aleix didn’t change his mind: “That’s not possible”.
But Marc was a winner. And winners didn’t give up. “Aleix”, he inquired firmly, “I need to talk to him. Please. Let me in”. Marc looked so convinced that Aleix couldn’t say no. His eyes were lighting up. Aleix moved over, so Marc could come in.
Once he was inside the box, Pol still hadn’t noticed his presence. Pol’s head was hiding in his knees, and Marc could hear his wails while he was getting close to someone he refused to call an enemy.
Pol heard his steps and stood up, shocked. “What the hell are you doing here…?!”, he shouted.
“Calm down, please, Pol…”, he whispered. “I’ve just come here to talk to you…”
“I don’t want to. I’m sorry”, Pol answered. “There’s nothing for us to talk about, Marc”.
“Yes, actually there’s something. I’m worried about you”.
Pol burst out laughing. “You, worried about me? Come on! You don’t have any reasons”.
“You were crying before, right? Don’t lie to me. I know you”, Marc insisted. “I know you’re suffering”. Pol trembled when he heard the word crying. Oh, fuck, he thought. He didn’t want anybody but Aleix to see him cry. Or, at least, he didn’t want Marc to see it.
“Marc”, his voice sounded exasperated. “You’re wasting your time here”.
“Could you please listen to me for a second!?”, Marc screamed angrily, and Pol’s heart stopped for a moment.
“Pol, I care so much about you. You cannot even imagine how much I do. I just wanted to… I don’t know.” Marc took a deep breath and continued. “I cannot apologize for my race. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for you. I know how hard you’ve worked. Maybe even a bit harder than me. I cannot consider you my enemy. Because I admire you, and…” but he was suddenly interrupted.
“Stop, Marc. Please”, Pol said. “How would you feel if a kid, because you must admit you’re still a kid… came and stole your dream? Well, that’s how I’m feeling right now”.
“Pol, I…”
“Yes, I know that’s not your intention and blah blah. Now please get the fuck off. You can go with your teammates to celebrate you’re about the win the Championship if you want. We’re done, Marc”.
Marc stared at Pol’s eyes for one last time. They were red and looked powerless and desperate, and Marc guessed that he had to go. Marc was shivering, and he didn’t know whether it was because of the rain or Pol’s words, but he supposed it was the second thing. Those words were aching so deep in his soul. He would’ve never thought that Pol could ever think like that. As soon as he left the box, he signed a couple of autographs to some fans and left the circuit. He didn’t feel like he was still on top of the table and about to become World Champion. He was feeling miserable instead.
“Maybe someday we won’t be enemies anymore”, he thought. He was hoping that maybe someday things would change. What he didn’t know was that Pol was still inside the box, crying, regretting for his words and hoping exactly the same as Marc: that their situation will change one day, sooner or later.
Title: The time for lovers sometimes ends
Characters: Marc Màrquez, Pol Espargaró, nominés Aleix Espargaró and Marc's brother, Àlex.
Pairing: Pol Espargaró/Marc Màrquez (aka Porquez)
Disclaimer: It's everything a product of my imagination. I earn nothing on my fanfics.
Rating: G
Notes: It's been ages since I don't write any RPF fanfiction. In fact, this is my first MotoGP fiction I upload here, with a special dedication to lamechante as we are both the 'proud mummies' who gave birth to Porquez in a lovely summer in Barcelona. I know the story is a bit sad, but it was something I *needed* to write. Because, although this pairing will rule the MotoGP fandom, relationships like that mustn't be easy. I hope you all like it :)
The title was taken from Sophie Zelmani's song I'm the rain. Not beta'd, so feel free to tell me if there's any mistake. And yeah, I know I could have written in Italian, but I just didn't feel capable XD
It was supposed to be one of the best moments of his life. He had just won the Estoril Grand Prix after a historic comeback - sliding and losing some positions but standing up on time, shining with his own light on the Portuguese wet track. He was about to reach the sky. In less than a week he could be the World Champion.
But he just didn’t care at that time.
He was celebrating his own success at his box. He raised his fists victoriously; he shouted and bounced, congratulated the team and embraced his relatives. But, all of a sudden, he turned his head back to look at the TV screen and his face changed completely. There was the image of Pol crying inside his box, held tight by his brother Aleix, and Marc’s heart broke entirely as soon as he saw it. “What’s going on?”, his brother Àlex asked. Marc shook his head and answered, with a soft smile on his face: “It’s nothing. Wait for me, guys. I’ll be right back”.
And he ran to where the Tuenti Racing box was, breathing heavily and trying to avoid the dozens of people waiting for his autograph and congratulating him. “I don’t give a damn about you guys right now… I just want to see him!”, Marc thought. Actually, it only took five minutes, but those seemed eternal to him while the rain was falling on his shoulders.
When he was about to knock on the box’s door, Aleix Espargaró cut in front of him, with a grave look on his face. Aleix, who was in fact looking kind of shocked, couldn’t understand anything he was seeing. Was Marc, the guy who was pissing his brother off, running to talk to him, gasping desperately for breath, with his hair all wet?
“Did you want something, Màrquez?”, he asked suspiciously.
“Uhm, yes… I wanted to talk to Pol”, Marc answered, a bit scared. Aleix seemed to disapprove of the encounter. “He cannot talk right now - I’m sorry”. Oh, please, he insisted, but Aleix didn’t change his mind: “That’s not possible”.
But Marc was a winner. And winners didn’t give up. “Aleix”, he inquired firmly, “I need to talk to him. Please. Let me in”. Marc looked so convinced that Aleix couldn’t say no. His eyes were lighting up. Aleix moved over, so Marc could come in.
Once he was inside the box, Pol still hadn’t noticed his presence. Pol’s head was hiding in his knees, and Marc could hear his wails while he was getting close to someone he refused to call an enemy.
Pol heard his steps and stood up, shocked. “What the hell are you doing here…?!”, he shouted.
“Calm down, please, Pol…”, he whispered. “I’ve just come here to talk to you…”
“I don’t want to. I’m sorry”, Pol answered. “There’s nothing for us to talk about, Marc”.
“Yes, actually there’s something. I’m worried about you”.
Pol burst out laughing. “You, worried about me? Come on! You don’t have any reasons”.
“You were crying before, right? Don’t lie to me. I know you”, Marc insisted. “I know you’re suffering”. Pol trembled when he heard the word crying. Oh, fuck, he thought. He didn’t want anybody but Aleix to see him cry. Or, at least, he didn’t want Marc to see it.
“Marc”, his voice sounded exasperated. “You’re wasting your time here”.
“Could you please listen to me for a second!?”, Marc screamed angrily, and Pol’s heart stopped for a moment.
“Pol, I care so much about you. You cannot even imagine how much I do. I just wanted to… I don’t know.” Marc took a deep breath and continued. “I cannot apologize for my race. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for you. I know how hard you’ve worked. Maybe even a bit harder than me. I cannot consider you my enemy. Because I admire you, and…” but he was suddenly interrupted.
“Stop, Marc. Please”, Pol said. “How would you feel if a kid, because you must admit you’re still a kid… came and stole your dream? Well, that’s how I’m feeling right now”.
“Pol, I…”
“Yes, I know that’s not your intention and blah blah. Now please get the fuck off. You can go with your teammates to celebrate you’re about the win the Championship if you want. We’re done, Marc”.
Marc stared at Pol’s eyes for one last time. They were red and looked powerless and desperate, and Marc guessed that he had to go. Marc was shivering, and he didn’t know whether it was because of the rain or Pol’s words, but he supposed it was the second thing. Those words were aching so deep in his soul. He would’ve never thought that Pol could ever think like that. As soon as he left the box, he signed a couple of autographs to some fans and left the circuit. He didn’t feel like he was still on top of the table and about to become World Champion. He was feeling miserable instead.
“Maybe someday we won’t be enemies anymore”, he thought. He was hoping that maybe someday things would change. What he didn’t know was that Pol was still inside the box, crying, regretting for his words and hoping exactly the same as Marc: that their situation will change one day, sooner or later.